


Needs

by DarkReyna16



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, but I guess I could use a fic dedicated to smut, ladynoir enemies!au, this became a thing without me meaning it to, with a dash of chat in heat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-06 09:18:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13408158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkReyna16/pseuds/DarkReyna16
Summary: There were three very important rules to their arrangement.One: The masks stayed on.Two: No marks.And three: Outside of their stolen, intimate moments, they were enemies.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This became a Thing™ over on my blog, so I decided to post it to my AO3.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy~
> 
> ~Reyna

The click of the door shutting was loud in the darkness.

Marinette made herself breathe, pushing away the guilt that always fluttered at the edge of her conscience whenever she did something like this. She knew it was wrong. It was shameful to be sleeping with the enemy. Her brain knew this.

Her libido just refused to listen.

“Something _bugging_ you, My Lady?”

He was here already. Of course.

Marinette glanced up, adjusting her mask ever so slightly as she caught the gleam of green eyes glinting in the darkness. He lounged across the bed in an open black shirt and tight-fitting jeans that left little to the imagination…not that Marinette needed to imagine anything. She knew—quite intimately—what was under those clothes. And even though she knew that _he_ knew, it was obvious that he still wanted to put on a show. He liked the attention, after all.

As Marinette stepped forward, undoing her trenchcoat and letting it drop on a nearby chair, Chat Noir sat up. She suppressed a shiver as his eyes roamed appreciatively over her, his Cheshire grin splitting his face.

“Oooh. I like the new choice of lingerie. Did you buy it for little ol’ me?”

“Maybe,” Marinette said, plucking delicately at the black lace of her bra. “Or maybe I just like the way I look in lingerie enough to buy it for myself.”

“Mmm,” Chat purred, crooking a finger for her to come forward. Marinette stayed where she was, though the invitation _was_ inviting—Chat certainly knew how to use his hands.

“I’m not coming over there until you promise me something.”

Chat’s eyelids lowered under his mask.

“We don’t have a lot of time here, My Lady.”

“Then stop interrupting me so I can make this quick,” Marinette shot back with a quirked brow. “You left marks on me the last time we were…together. That can’t happen again—it’s too warm for me to be wearing a scarf everywhere.”

Chat shrugged, completely unrepentant.

“Can I help it if my passion takes over sometimes?”

“You’ll help it if you want to keep this up,” Marinette threatened. Chat grinned at her, scooting to the edge of the bed as she stepped forward, close enough for his hands to slide over her waist.

“Oh, you act like you wouldn’t miss this if we stopped,” Chat purred, his lips pressing against her stomach, his hands squeezing her cheeks. Marinette couldn’t help her shiver now, her hands going to his shoulders as she let him play with her. For now.

“We shouldn’t have even started,” she argued feebly, obediently sliding into Chat Noir’s lap when he tugged her forward. Even as his lips found her neck, kissing her in just the way she liked, Marinette thought about leaving.

This was wrong. They were enemies. As Tikki kept reminding her over and over, every time Marinette left her behind to dally with the enemy, this was a severe conflict of interest. How was she supposed to protect Paris when she let herself be embraced by one of the people trying to disrupt the peace of her beloved city? What was wrong with her? Shouldn’t she be better than this? Didn’t Paris _deserve_ better than this…?

Chat nipped at the crook of her neck, and Marinette moaned, grinding her hips against the bulge in his jeans, making him hiss softly.

She hated herself for this weakness. But it was easy to forget when such weakness felt so satisfying.

“The rules,” Marinette mumbled before they got so carried away by passion that it would be too late to remind themselves to be responsible. Chat, though he seemed preoccupied with undoing her bra, responded swiftly:

“The masks stay on.”

“ _No_ marks,” Marinette added, her tone a touch severe. Chat pressed a kiss to the skin below her earlobe to show that he understood.

“Neither of us linger in the morning,” he recited.

“What we do tonight doesn’t leave this room.”

Chat pulled back, meeting her gaze head-on.

“Outside of these stolen moments…” he trailed off, undoing her bra with a snap. Marinette kept his eyes, even as he slid the straps of her bra down, exposing her to him.

“…We are enemies,” she finished. Chat nodded, something of a sly grin crossing his face as he leaned down, his lips capturing hers. Marinette closed her eyes, gave into his touch, and lost herself to passion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be the shortest chapter I have ever posted on here. XP
> 
> More to come--stay tuned~
> 
> ~Reyna


	2. Chapter 2

Ladybug could not say for certain when it was that she had discovered that she was attracted to Chat Noir. Maybe it was all their stupid banter as they fought, a sort of strange camaraderie forming, even though they were on opposite sides. Maybe it was the lure of the forbidden, as shameful as that might be to admit. Maybe it was that damn skin-tight leather catsuit pulled tight over bulging…muscles, and the fact that Marinette hadn’t been laid in a _very_ long time.

Whatever it was, it was a problem, and Ladybug worked very hard to stifle it whenever she felt it creeping up. But this was not always an easy matter.

It was business as usual today: Marinette was in the middle of a very important presentation at work, but Hawkmoth showed his usual disregard for her life by conjuring up an akuma to terrorize Paris. Marinette swore, quickly excused herself to transform, and Ladybug swung onto the scene, ready to give Hawkmoth’s cronies a good wallop.

She only had a moment to register the theme of the akuma—a Sleeping Beauty-esque dust that made Parisian citizens drop where they stood—before she was suddenly bowled over. Swearing again, Ladybug went with the roll, managing to come out on top. She glared at the infuriating cat man under her, doing her damnedest not to flush at their compromising position as he grinned up at her.

“Ladybug,” he drawled, and Ladybug did not appreciate the humming thrill that shot through her at the way he said her name. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Yeah, I’m so sure,” Ladybug replied with a roll of her eyes, flipping away to get into a defensive position as Chat Noir leapt to his feet, claws poised for a fight. “Every time chaos erupts, there _you_ are. Gee, what a coincidence.”

“Someone’s _catty_ today,” Chat teased, baring his fangs in a grin as he lunged at her, Ladybug ducking out of the way at the last minute. “What’s the matter, did we interrupt your beauty rest?”

“Since when do you care about interrupting anything important in my life?” Ladybug growled, sending out her yo-yo to catch the cat; the sooner she took care of him, the sooner she’d be able to deal with the akuma. Sadly, since they had done this same old song and dance one too many times, Chat was able to predict her, and he nimbly dodged her yo-yo lashes, even daring to invade her space at one point, grinning cheekily.

“I don’t, really,” he admitted with a wink. “You’re just beautiful when you’re angry.”

Ladybug threw a punch at him, connecting with his jaw. Chat yowled and reeled back, wincing as he massaged his jaw.

“Ouch,” he said, green eyes narrowing at her. And, for some nonsensical reason, Ladybug actually felt… _bad_.

She shoved such a reaction away, swinging her yo-yo around to capture the cat man at last.

“Maybe you should think twice about messing with me, then,” she snapped at him. Chat stared at her for a moment…and then he smirked.

Ladybug didn’t understand why until she felt a presence behind her, and before she realized what was happening, strange dust fell sprinkled in front of her eyes.

Her eyelids grew heavy, and the realization came too late—Chat Noir had been playing with her long enough for the akuma to get to her. She tried to summon the energy for a Lucky Charm, but the world was swaying, tilting upon its axis. Ladybug felt her knees connect with the ground, saw a flash of a grin as Chat leaned over her.

“And maybe you should remember not to underestimate _me,_ ” he whispered. Ladybug tried to search for a swear bad enough to describe him, but just as an appropriate word was forming on her lips, the dust overpowered her, and she was out.

Ladybug awoke in a haze, the edges of her vision blurry. She could only make out that she was somewhere dim, and not alone.

There was a dark figure pacing in front of her, muttering something to itself.

“…Cowardly,” the voice grumbled, and Ladybug recognized him. “It’s different when she’s fighting me, but to just take her earrings while she’s passed out…?”

He paused, and Ladybug could just make out his shoulders stiffening.

This was so bizarre—Chat Noir, being _noble?_

…Ah. Suddenly, Ladybug understood: she was dreaming.

She snorted softly, and he whipped around, his eyes glowing in the darkness in a disturbing way.

“Well?” She drawled, frowning at how weak her voice sounded as she pushed herself to roll over onto her back, since her body still felt too weak for her to get up. It was probably because she was actually asleep right now, still weighed down by the stupid akuma dust. Damn it. “Here I am, at your mercy. What’s the problem?”

Chat Noir said nothing. He just stared at her, his eyes enigmatic.

After a moment, Ladybug tried to sit up. It sort of worked—she managed to do it, but she swayed, her head overcome with dizziness. She groaned, a hand to her mouth, afraid that she might be sick, but suddenly, hands were at her shoulders, steadying her…or perhaps making sure she just stayed put. She glanced up at him, surprised to find him so close to her. Up close like this, she could make out his facial features a little better, and she was able to appreciate the little details she missed when they were fighting, like the shape of his pupils, reflecting a cat’s eyes, and how fluffy his blonde hair was, and his teeth curving into what looked like a slight overbite, which was surprisingly endearing.

“…What?” He said, his brows furrowing at her for some reason. Since it was a dream, Ladybug allowed herself to smile.

“Nothing. Just wondering if your lips are as soft as they look.”

Chat Noir’s pupils contracted.

“…Did you hit your head?” He wanted to know, looking as if he was actually _concerned_ about her! The thought made Ladybug laugh. Just how ridiculous could this dream get?

“No. I just think about kissing you whenever I see you,” she readily admitted, wanting to see how he’d react. He didn’t disappoint—Ladybug distinctly noticed when the Adam’s apple in his throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“You…want to kiss me?” He asked, his voice carefully guarded. Ladybug sighed, peering up into those hypnotic eyes of his.

“I shouldn’t want to. But I do,” she admitted. With an effort, she raised a hand, her thumb tracing his bottom lip. Chat Noir shivered, and his eyes shut as a tiny whimper escaped him, as if he had never felt a human touch before, despite the fact that Ladybug was wearing gloves. That small little noise lit something in Ladybug that she had been fighting against with all her might, something that overrode her logic and reason and urged her forward, her lips pressing firmly against Chat Noir’s.

He froze. Ladybug almost pulled back—even in a dream, it was skeevy to force such contact on someone else if it was unwanted. But just as her lips separated from his, suddenly, he was lunging forward, his arms circling her, practically crushing her to him as his lips mashed into hers. His movements were clumsy, whether from nerves or inexperience, but Ladybug didn’t care—she wriggled her arms free to cling to him, hands cupping his neck just under his jaw, eagerly responding to his enthusiasm. To hell with right and wrong—this was a dream, so even if it was bad for her to do this with him, she would just wake up satisfied later, and there would be no consequence. It was basically a win-win.

Another thing about Chat Noir’s catsuit—it left _nothing_ to the imagination. As soon as he pressed himself against her, she was made very aware of his state, and how very much he wanted her in this moment. It made her smirk against his lips; she rocked her hips and earned herself a moan from him, hastily stifled, but still heard. She giggled and he growled, his teeth sinking into her bottom lip a little too hard. Ouch.

….‘Ouch’?

Ladybug’s eyes flew open, the haze of the sleeping powder and the moment wearing off so quickly she had whiplash. On instinct, she shoved him away, getting to her feet so fast her head swam.

“Ladybug?” Chat Noir asked, sounding _vulnerable_ as he crouched near the floor, staring up at her in confusion. She could do nothing but stare at him, her jaw unhinged in horror.

“This isn’t a dream,” she whispered, horrified.

What the _hell_ had she just done?!

Before Chat Noir could react, Ladybug fled. She didn’t know where she was, but she just ran in the opposite direction from him, skirting around heavy-looking objects in the room until she hit a wall—no, it gave. A door!

She burst through it, blinking in the light of day. People were just now waking up, as if the spell had worn off as it had with her. And she didn’t see any sign of the akuma…had Hawkmoth forced it to retreat, thinking he had won the battle?

There was scuffling behind her. Ladybug slammed the door shut to—a warehouse? Whatever, she didn’t care; all she knew was that she was getting out of here right the fuck _now._

She flew blindly, fled until her Miraculous threatened to give out. She was forced to stop and drop down to the ground so she wouldn’t fall to her death when her transformation broke, and even then, she couldn’t face Tikki. She just ushered the kwami into her purse and resumed her run, as if she could outrun her mortification.

 _She had just been playing tonsil hockey with the enemy._ That was the situation as she knew it, and as far as Marinette was concerned, she had sunk the lowest she could sink. Actually _admitting_ to him that she wanted to kiss him and then _doing_ it…what the fuck had she been thinking?! She should have checked to make sure that she was actually dreaming, pinched herself, _something!_ Now he was going to be _unbearable_ , and she had no one to blame but herself. Fan- _fucking_ -tastic.

Oh, but all of that wasn’t even the worst part.

The _worst_ part of it all was that she still _ached_ for him. That stolen moment in that dark building was the most exhilarating experience of Marinette’s life, and she wanted to fucking _die_ because of it. How pathetic was this, her lusting after someone who made regular attempts to steal her Miraculous and plunge Paris into chaos? She was sick, plain and simple.

Marinette cursed herself and continued on her way, working her hardest to ignore the heat between her legs as she dashed her way through Paris, hoping against hope that her mortification would burn itself out before she dropped dead from shame.

 

* * *

 

The cool Parisian breeze felt nice against Ladybug’s face. She stood tall atop the Notre Dame, though at the moment, she felt like it was rather tempting fate to stand so boldly on top of a church.

It had taken an effort on Tikki’s part to convince her to patrol tonight—after yesterday’s…‘incident’, Marinette was ready to march right back to Master Fu and surrender her Miraculous, because she was clearly unworthy if she was going to go around making out with superhot villains and whatnot.

…Aaaaaand she was thinking about it again. Damn it.

Ladybug sighed. The sound almost covered up the muffled noise of someone landing behind her. Her senses were too sharp, however: she whipped around, yo-yo yanked from her hip and swinging in her grasp in an instant.

Chat Noir raised his hands, eyes wide and focused on her looping yo-yo. Ladybug grit her teeth at the sight of him; what the hell was he doing here? Did he come to gloat?

“Whoa,” he said the moment she thought about clocking him in the head with her yo-yo. “I come in peace. I just want to talk.” She leveled a flat look at him, and Chat Noir grimaced. Very slowly, he reached behind him and retrieved his baton. Ladybug tensed…but he did nothing except let it fall to the concrete, kicking it over to her. “See? I’m unarmed.”

That wasn’t strictly true—he still had his Cataclysm, of course. It would mean his transformation would fade faster, but even so, he could still do some serious damage. But there was something about his expression tonight…it wasn’t exactly _honest,_ but it was…open. Like…he actually wanted to _talk._

Ladybug eyed him, her yo-yo unconsciously slowing. What was his angle…?

“What do you want?” She demanded to know point blank. Slowly, Chat Noir lowered his hands. They hung awkwardly at his sides, as if it was his first day having arms, and he wasn’t sure what to do with them after he’d finished using them. For a long moment, they just stared at each other, waiting for the other to make a move, to say something, anything…

It was Chat Noir who broke the silence.

“Yesterday,” he began, looking determined despite the burning look Ladybug threw him, “you said you wanted to kiss me. And then you did.”

“I thought I was dreaming,” she snapped, unappreciative of the fact that her mistake was being thrown in her face so soon. It was made worse when Chat Noir began to smirk.

“Yeah, but that means that you dream about kissing me,” he pointed out, taking a careful step forward.

“So what? Dreams don’t mean anything,” Ladybug justified, shutting out the little voice in the back of her head that said she was only kidding herself, and that she wasn’t doing a very good job of that, either. “Just last night, I dreamed I married a model.”

“Bet you wouldn’t mind making that dream come true, either,” Chat quipped with a second step forward, followed by another, and another.

Ladybug’s hands tightened over the wire of her yo-yo, but she didn’t raise it, even as she watched him approach, closer and closer, until he was nearly flush against her, towering over her with his stupid height advantage. Ladybug scowled up at him, _hating_ herself for the way her pulse throbbed at his proximity. He stared down at her, eyes intense as he searched her face, looking for something…

“I want you,” he said bluntly, causing her lips to part in surprise. “And I know you want me, too.” He pursed his lips, as if to mock her. “What I want to know is what you’re prepared to do about it.”

Ladybug stared at him.

“Do about it…?” She parroted, the sentence absurd to her. “What do you mean, ‘do about it’? We can’t _do anything_ about it! In case you forgot, we’re enemies!”

“Yeah, I get that,” Chat assured her with a bob of his head. “But I’m not talking about our status as superheroes. I’m talking about us as a man and woman who want each other, in a city where there are _plenty_ of hotel rooms to take advantage of.”

She no longer understood what he was saying. He was incomprehensible. She could only gape at him, staring at his serious expression, waiting for him to smirk or snicker and burst into hysterics and tease her about actually thinking that he was _serious._

He didn’t do any of those things. He just stood there, waiting. As if he was legitimately waiting for her to respond to his offer.

Ladybug felt her mouth go dry.

“I—we—we _can’t_ ,” she sputtered, only able to utter that single, frustrating fact. “We—I—we _can’t_.”

Chat stepped into her space, his hands sliding carefully, so carefully over her waist, coming to rest on her hips. He held her eyes as she stood frozen, helpless under his gaze, a bird caught in a stalking cat’s path. Despite every single moral fiber in her being, when his lips pressed against the skin just underneath her ear in a kiss so hot she felt her knees wobble, a barely suppressed sigh escaped her, followed by a groan of longing and discontent when he pulled away. He met her eyes again, and she flushed as red as her mask. He knew exactly what he was doing to her. _How humiliating._

“…Are you sure?” He asked, his voice low and husky, desire glittering in his gaze. Ladybug stared up at him, biting her lip so hard that it reminded her of the feel of his teeth sinking there just yesterday. She didn’t want to admit how needy such a kiss had made her that night. She didn’t _want_ to acknowledge that she had spent that night in desperate heat, her fingers between her thighs as she bit into her pillow to keep from waking Tikki, orgasm after orgasm refusing to satisfy what she really wanted.

She didn’t want this to be the reality of her situation.

But it was.

‘ _Fuck it,_ ’ a vicious part of Ladybug’s mind thought, and before she knew it, she was seizing Chat Noir by the nape of his neck and dragging his head down to crush his lips to hers. The friction in between their suits soon started a fire that was all-consuming, and Ladybug wrestled with her conscious as she kissed Chat Noir silly, fluctuating between the need to nip this in the bud and the need to drag his zipper down, straddle him, and fuck him until the goddamn stained glass windows shattered in the church underneath them—

This time Chat pulled away, and Ladybug couldn’t help the squeal of discontent that left her. She blushed again, hating the smirk that crossed his lips as he dislodged her hands from his neck, reaching into his suit to retrieve a card of some kind…

“For you.”

He placed it in her hand and closed her fingers around it, only allowing Ladybug to peek when he let go.

It was a hotel room key.

Her head snapped up, her mouth open in horror, and Chat raised his hands again.

“I’m not saying you have to come,” he assured her, “I’m just saying you have the option. I’ll be there in an hour. If you don’t show up, that’ll be the end of it, and I’ll never bring it up again.”

Ladybug watched him, chewing on her response for a moment. Just as she decided not to say anything, the words were forced through her lips by her traitorous tongue.

“And if I do show up?”

Chat’s grin was slow and sensual, sending a chill down Ladybug’s spine.

“Then I give you a really great night, My Lady,” he promised in a low, seductive tone. Immediately, Ladybug was too hot in her suit, and the temptation to jump him right then and there skyrocketed. Somehow, she managed to keep hold of her self-control by asking a very important question:

“How are we supposed to…be with each other? If you’re asking me to reveal myself—”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Chat Noir assured her with a mysterious glint in his cat’s eyes, “I have a solution for that, too.”

 

* * *

 

The lingerie set he picked out for her was ridiculous. It was so expensive that it cost more than a year’s worth of rent for her apartment. How the hell he had gotten this, she didn’t want to know…and frankly, she was a little afraid to ask.

It was official—Marinette was crazy for coming here. Clearly she was being set up for some kind of exposé, and her very own best friend was going to pop out of the closet any minute and sell her out for fifteen minutes of fame. She really, _really_ should not be here—

There was a soft knock at the door. Marinette jumped, swallowed, and sat on the bed, hoping she looked natural enough in the red baby doll chemise, one leg crossed over the other.

“Come in,” she called, working to sound as confident as she could, praying for a bit of Ladybug’s persona as she adjusted her provided mask, making sure it stayed in place.

The door opened, and for the second time that night, Chat Noir appeared. Well, a version of Chat Noir—the ears were missing, as was the leather, but he was still in all black, and his eyes still glinted at her beneath a pitch black mask, his blonde hair still tousled as he slipped into the room, pressing the door shut behind him. Marinette didn’t miss the way his eyes roved over her as he stepped forward, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I guessed your size correctly,” he noted, sounding indecently pleased. Marinette pouted.

“Have you been checking me out this whole time?” She accused him. Chat laughed softly, moving to the mini fridge and retrieving a bottle of wine he must have stashed there along with the mask and lingerie set she was wearing.

“Believe me, you haven’t been the only one with…dreams,” he assured her, the suggestion in his tone bringing a blush to Marinette’s face. She hastily adjusted her mask once again, accepting the glass of wine he handed to her, for she needed a little bit of liquid courage. Once she was halfway through her glass, she had the nerve to make her demands.

“This is only going to be a one-time thing,” she told him firmly, turning to give him a stern look as he sat beside her, idly sipping at his glass. He swirled the glass around, watching the contents splash about, that little smile still tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“If you say so,” he said in a tone that told her she hadn’t been convincing enough. He eyed her from his peripheral vision. “Anything else?”

Marinette tried to think around the distraction that was him sitting so close to her; he wasn’t touching her yet, but he was certainly sitting close enough _to_ be touching her, and it was frustrating, because it felt like he was _goading_ her. Damn it, just when had she become so aware of him?

“No marks,” she said, suddenly thinking of Alya and the way her eyes would light up with suspicion if Marinette dared to parade a hickey in front of her. Chat Noir nodded thoughtfully, appearing serious for a moment.

“No marks,” he agreed, finishing off his wine before he tossed the glass carelessly to the side, apparently content with the fact that the hotel would charge him, since _he_ was apparently the one who rented the room. Marinette swallowed as his hands slid up her thighs, lifting them and laying them down to rest again across his lap, his fingertips pressing into her bare skin. “I have my own rules: the masks stay on, and what we do doesn’t leave this room.”

Marinette nodded vigorously, repressing a shudder as he moved forward, the tip of his nose sliding up her neck.

“R-right,” she sputtered, snatching desperately at her train of thought before he let it loose with his touches. “B-because outside of this room, we’re enemies. And nothing can change that.”

“Nothing,” Chat agreed, pulling back to meet her eyes, his still managing to glitter like a cat’s, despite his pupils being shaped like a normal human’s for once. “Last chance to back out.”

Marinette seriously considered it. She shouldn’t be here, after all—this was a mistake. She had even left her Miraculous at home because she feared it was some clever ruse of Chat Noir’s, to use her own neglected libido against her to steal her earrings. But he hadn’t once commented on her missing Miraculous, even though he still wore his ring.

She didn’t know what he meant by this. Did he, in some weird way, trust her? Or did he think that because she was a superhero, she’d do the normal thing and leave his Miraculous alone? Or maybe—

“Ladybug,” Chat whispered, his thumb swiping over her bottom lip, his eyes growing hungry. “I need to hear you say it: are you sure you want to do this?”

Marinette swallowed, closed her eyes, and made herself say the words she’d flog herself for later:

“Yes. I…want to do this.”

She could feel Chat grin against her lips, and almost opened her mouth to tell him off, but the sudden and _pleasing_ appearance of his hand between her thighs distracted her.

“Just for tonight, then,” he purred in her ear.

Marinette suspected he knew that she was lying to herself, for when she begrudgingly asked him for one more night together after defeating the akuma, he already had another key card ready.

For every “one more night” she requested, he always had a key card ready.


	3. Chapter 3

Something was wrong with Chat Noir.

Ladybug could tell—he was distracted the whole fight, choosing to run rather than fight her, which she found odd, since he usually never passed up an opportunity to get his hands on her. All the quips about him being a ‘fraidy cat’ went unanswered, and when he didn’t even gloat when the akuma momentarily gained the upper hand, Ladybug truly grew concerned.

After the akuma was purified, as usual, they went their ‘separate ways’: Chat Noir fled in one direction, and Ladybug circled around to corner him…except this time, he wasn’t where he was supposed to be. Frowning to herself, Ladybug ventured deeper into his chosen alleyway, wondering if he had doubled back at the last minute. Or maybe…could it be that he was avoiding her for some reason…?

More anxious than she cared to admit, Ladybug picked up her pace, nearly sprinting as she worked to find him—

Oh, there he was. She skidded to a halt, squinting in the dimness. He was slumped over, his claws digging into one of the walls, panting. Ladybug stared, stepping closer. Was he sick or something?

He must’ve heard her approach; his head snapped up, his eyes zeroing in on her. She watched him mouth a curse, and he stood upright, gritting his teeth.

“What do you want?” He growled. Ladybug paused at the tone of his voice; he _never_ talked like that to her.

“I was wondering what was up with you,” she admitted after an unsure pause. She knew she had no business being concerned about her enemy, but… “You didn’t seem…yourself, today.”

“I’m fine,” Chat Noir insisted anyway. At her next step, he stiffed. “ _Stay there._ ”

Ladybug paused. There was _definitely_ something up with him. And she was going to find out what.

When she ignored his hissing, Chat Noir backed up a few steps, his hands balling into fists.

“Don’t come any closer,” he warned her, his voice low, desperate. “Go home, Ladybug.”

“Why?” Ladybug challenged him, moving closer despite his clenched jaw. “Why don’t you want me near you? Sick of me already?”

Chat released a hissing breath and covered his mouth with his hand, looking away from her.

“If you come closer,” he growled in between his fingers, “you’ll _ruin everything._ ”

Ladybug paused, blinking at him. Now what was that supposed to mean?

“Chat—”

“Stop—”

“I’m not leaving—”

“ _Ladybug_ —”

“What is _with_ you?” She burst out, getting close enough to poke his broad chest in annoyance.

The second after she touched him, Chat Noir had her pinned against the wall, kissing her so fiercely that the shock threw Ladybug for a loop. She couldn’t react properly until she remembered where they were, and by then Chat was already grinding against her, the noises in his throat he usually stifled seeming to echo through the alley.

“ _Ah._ Chat, Chat, wait,” Ladybug mumbled, equal parts mortified and aroused. “We can’t—oh—we can’t _do_ this here. Remember the rules, the _rules!_ ”

The word seemed to snap Chat out of his sudden lust; he backed off, and Ladybug leaned against the bricks behind her for support, her legs suddenly jelly. Chat Noir stared at her, panting, his suit tight around his erection. He raised a shaky hand to smooth through his hair, pressing himself against the opposite wall, a groan escaping him.

“I _told_ you not to come closer,” he moaned, his free hand hovering just over his straining arousal, as if he wanted relief, but couldn’t bring himself to touch it. “I _told_ you.”

Ladybug let out a breath, suddenly feeling as if a line had been crossed. She bit her lip, feeling _bad._ But was _this_ why Chat Noir had been so distracted? If so, where were his priorities? Maybe penguin-themed akumas just turned him on…?

“…Um,” Ladybug began, trying not to stare at his blatant erection—and failing. “Uh…I can, uh…help you with that?”

“No,” Chat Noir said, and Ladybug had to admit, the blunt rejection hurt. She watched as Chat swallowed, rubbing his hands over his face as he still worked to catch his breath. “I…you can’t. Not this time.”

“What do you mean?”

Chat groaned, and Ladybug noticed that his legs were beginning to wobble, as if he was having trouble staying upright.

“I’m in heat, okay?” He burst out with a whine, covering his face with his hands, like he was embarrassed. “I _can’t_ be near you right now, so would you just _go_ already?”

Ladybug stared at him.

In heat.

Chat Noir was…in _heat._

She felt her mouth come open with a pop.

“That _happens_?”

“It’s a fuckin’ side-effect of the Cat Miraculous,” Chat growled, his hands bunching in his hair, as if he was going to claw through his own scalp. He glanced up at her, lust darkening his eyes. “Now go, or I won’t be able to stop myself next time.”

Vaguely, Ladybug understood that that should scare her.

It did not. It only caused desire to coil into the pit of her belly, her libido coming alive with the promise of what sounded like raw, animalistic sex. She bit her lip, her thighs rubbing together as she took a step forward, ignoring the glare Chat shot at her.

“Ladybug—”

“Let me help you,” Ladybug interrupted him, privately amused at the desire that flashed through Chat’s eyes before he stifled it, looking away from her.

“You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“But I _am_ asking,” Ladybug pointed out, stepping just a bit closer. “So you don’t have to feel bad about it. I’m offering to…help you, let’s say.”

This made Chat snort, still looking resolutely away from her, as if to avoid temptation.

“Since when do you want to help me?”

“Since this sounds like it could be very, very satisfying,” Ladybug murmured just loud enough for him to hear, smirking when Chat Noir closed his eyes, muffling a groan as his whole frame shivered. “I can give you what you want, Chat Noir…but you have to help me give you what you want.”

At her prompting, Chat reached a shaking hand into his suit, producing, as expected, a hotel key card. He dropped it into her waiting hand, as if he didn’t trust himself enough to touch her. Ladybug smiled, giving him a wink.

“I’ll see you in a couple hours, then,” she promised, finally taking a step back. “Just imagine me in silk to hold you over for the time being.”

Chat growled out another groan, and he actually did sink to his knees, his breath labored.

“Fuckin’ _tease_ ,” he threw at her, and Ladybug let herself laugh as she cast out her yo-yo and swung away, grinning in a most devious manner.

This impromptu ‘date’ meant she would have to cut her night with Alya short…but if she was right, it would be so very, very worth it.

 

* * *

 

Marinette arrived at the predetermined hotel room, barely keeping her anticipation under control as she let herself inside…to a most interesting sight.

Chat was already there, of course, but he wasn’t waiting for her with a glass of wine, a new piece of lingerie, or even his usual smirk. Instead, he was sprawled out on the bed, already half undressed, working his shaft furiously, his wanton moans just barely suppressed as he bit into his fist. Marinette raised an eyebrow behind her mask, pointedly clearing her throat as she stepped inside.

“Started without me, huh?”

Chat’s hand slowed, and he glanced over at her with an accusing look.

“You’re _late._ ”

“By five minutes,” Marinette pointed out, shutting the door behind her to drench the room in darkness once again. Chat pushed himself up, still breathing as heavily as he had been earlier in the day. Marinette wondered if he had come straight here after their encounter, to indeed imagine her in silk and other compromising positions. She shivered at the thought.

“Come here,” he ordered, his voice dark with desire. Marinette raised her eyebrows.

“What’s the magic word?” She teased. Chat scowled at her from behind his mask.

“You said you’d help me,” he growled at her, beginning to stroke himself again. “Are you going to or not?”

“Well, now that you’re being all rude—”

“ _Ladybug,_ ” Chat rasped, and she could see him _trembling._ “ _Please._ ”

The steady warmth that had thrummed in between her thighs all day reached fever pitch, and Marinette dropped her coat right there on the floor.

“That’s all I wanted,” she said honestly, crossing the room in record time and climbing into his lap, sucking on his bottom lip. Chat whimpered, his hands gripping her so tight that Marinette was sure they’d leave marks, but at this point, she didn’t care. She didn’t even mind that Chat couldn’t wait to properly undress her—he was already moving her panties to the side, the tip of his cock rubbing against her entrance.

“Oh god, you’re so wet already,” he groaned, filling her with no trouble. Marinette laughed a little breathlessly.

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thinking about this all night,” she muttered, able to be honest, because Chat was in such a compromising position. She moved slowly, watching his face evolve into bliss and loving it. “I was so distracted that my best friend’s suspicious that I have a secret boyfriend now.”

Chat managed to snort around his groans as Marinette slowly rode him.

“What—ah—what did you tell her?”

“That I was taking care of a cat tonight, and I had to go home to stroke him, or he’d get testy,” Marinette said, pushing Chat back so that he lay flat on the bed. He moaned, throwing an arm over his eyes, his other gripping the pillow underneath his head.

“ _Ladybug,_ ” he moaned, goading her. Licking her lips, Marinette moved a little faster, watching the way his expression changed as she increased her speed in small increments, thoroughly enjoying herself as she bounced in his lap. She never got to see him like this, so aroused and at her mercy—it was so heady. She wanted to hear him moan her name more, wanted to see him claw at the sheets more, wanted to watch the way his mouth stretched open and his eyes squeezed shut, as if he couldn’t take any more—

He came suddenly, his back arching off the bed, holding her hips for dear life as he filled her, and Marinette was once again thankful for her birth control, because she had been so excited about tonight that she had completely forgotten about a condom. Chat shuddered underneath her, slumping against the bed, swallowing as he panted. Marinette stared down at him, admittedly a little disappointed. Welp, she guessed that was the end of that. Sure, it was great that he had finally calmed down, but she would have liked for him to just last a _little_ longer—

As she began to climb off, he seized her hips once again, and abruptly, he was _hard_ again. Marinette blinked, staring down at where their bodies were joined. Whoa…talk about a comeback…

“Fuck,” Chat hissed, lifting his hips to thrust into her. “I-it’s usually never— _fuck_ —this fast— _oh._ Ladybug, please, I need you to _move._ ”

Marinette obliged him, picking a steady pace this time as he moaned and wriggled underneath her, pleading with her to please, _please_ move faster. She would—in a minute. For right now, she had some questions…

“How often does this happen?”

Chat groaned, his hands scraping down his chest, like he was trying to claw out of his own skin.

“Once every three months,” he answered her belatedly, mewling in protest when she stopped. Now that he had answered, she went a little faster, and he pressed a hand over his mouth to muffle the satisfied noises that were leaving him in a stream.

“So that’s why this is the first time I’m hearing about this,” she mused to herself, biting her lip and moving faster at the sound of Chat’s muffled voice. “How—mmm—how do you usually deal with it?”

Chat shook his head. That wasn’t an answer, and so Marinette paused again, something sadistic within her purring at the whine that escaped him.

“I-I can’t do anything,” he admitted, his hands on her now, pawing at her skin, as if he needed some sort of consistent contact with her, despite the fact that he was still inside her. “I—it lasts all _week._ I can’t do anything but suffer in bed, m-most of the time— _ah. Yes,_ ” he hissed as Marinette picked up her pace again, rewarding him for his answers.

“You deal with this all by yourself? You don’t…ask other women to help you?”

Chat mumbled something that sounded like ‘too much’, and Marinette wasn’t sure whether he was answering her question or referring to her humping him—he came again a second later, so either option was plausible.

At this point, Marinette was so wound up that she halted with the questions for the time being, and just rode him roughly until she managed to come with him this time, her legs still shaking from the aftershocks even as he grew hard again. Jesus, he wasn’t kidding, was he? Three orgasms and he was _still_ raring to go. Her legs ached, but there was no way she was giving up this opportunity—she would ride him until he was either satisfied for the night, or until she passed out.

“You spend—oh god—an entire _week_ this way?”

“Mmm,” Chat moaned, merely nodding since he had his hand pressed against his mouth once again. Marinette moved it, sticking her thumb in between his back molars for good measure. It was a trick Alya had taught her—if a guy was being too quiet, all she had to do was lodge her thumb in between his teeth. That way, he couldn’t close his mouth, so if he was trying to be quiet—

“ _Ahhh,_ ” Chat moaned out loud, promptly turning red as Marinette grinned down at him. “L-Ladybug—”

“I think,” she began, grinding torturously slow against him and making him whine loudly into the room, “that I’m going to have to see you again this week. At least one more time, just to see you totally at my mercy.”

Chat Noir stared up at her, looking as if he was torn between ecstasy and chagrin.

“You’re _evil_ ,” he accused her around the thumb in his mouth.

Marinette snorted.

“Let me tell you something about a pot and a kettle…”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> S2 is fucking me up, so have a development chapter.
> 
> Enjoy! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

_“Ah, o-oh! Chat…”_

_“Had enough, My Lady?”_

_Marinette scowled up at him, opening her mouth to say something snarky, but she promptly forgot what that was when he suddenly thrust into her. She cried out, a tiny part of her irritated, for she was sure that he had done that on purpose. She tightened around him in retaliation, and had the distinct pleasure of him swearing lowly under his breath, his eyes closing briefly as he shuddered._

_“Don’t forget that I can break you, Chat Noir,” she taunted him, poking out her tongue when he opened his eyes again. He grinned at this, bright green eyes glittering in the darkness._

_“I have no doubt, My Lady,” he purred, biting his lip as he lifted one of her legs up onto his shoulder. His thrusts were deeper now, and Marinette moaned, relishing this change in position. He leaned closer to her, panting slightly. “But I enjoy unmaking you as much as you seem to enjoy breaking me.”_

_Marinette would rather die than admit that he was doing a_ very _good job of the unmaking thing, and so she didn’t. Instead, she said, “Is that all you’ve got?”_

_Chat’s grin became bloodthirsty, and that night, Marinette learned just how long his stamina could carry him—_

“Hellooo? Marinette? Earth to Marinette!”

Marinette startled, brought back to the present of a stuffy, dark and loud club, finding her best friend’s fingers in front of her face, snapping rapidly. Once she saw she had Marinette’s attention, Alya drew her hand back, raising her eyebrows.

“You good?” She asked, and Marinette cleared her throat, attempting to appear innocent.

“Sorry. It’s just that…I don’t know about this, Alya—”

“Too late, you’re already here,” Alya said, her hand suddenly closing in a vice grip around Marinette’s shoulder, as if she expected Marinette to make a break for it at any moment. Marinette sighed.

“Seriously, Alya, I’m _fine._ ”

“You are not. I can count on one hand how many dates you’ve been on in the past _five years_ , Marinette. That’s not what I’d define as ‘fine’.”

“What makes you think I want to be set up, exactly?”

“The fact that you confessed to me that you go through a fresh pack of batteries every week?”

Ouch. Well, Marinette was never going to be that personal with Alya ever again, if she was just going to throw it back in her face…

Alya must have realized her words stung; she gave Marinette an apologetic look, rubbing her shoulders in a comforting manner.

“I’m sorry, M. Still, I really think this might be good for you. Nino has a friend he thinks would be perfect for you, and it’s not like you couldn’t use a good headboard rattling, right?”

Marinette said nothing. Unbeknownst to Alya, she was indeed getting ‘a good headboard rattling’ at least once a week, but if she dared to tell her reporter best friend that, Alya would not rest until she got every single detail. And that was far more intimate than Marinette was willing to get.

Still, she supposed it was nice that her best friend and her best friend’s boyfriend were trying to help her out. After all, it wasn’t like she was _supposed_ to be seeing Chat…maybe she _would_ benefit from a nice, healthy, _normal_ relationship—

“Oh, there they are!” Alya enthused, getting up to wave Nino over.

Marinette stood up as well, squinting past the flashing lights and Nino’s tall form, wondering who he could’ve possibly brought with him—

There was a man nearly as tall as Nino following him. His hair was fair, and as he drew closer, his eyes met Marinette’s. His _green_ eyes.

His eyes were a sucker punch straight to Marinette’s loins. She stood there, staring at him in disbelief, unable to accurately articulate the rage she felt at herself over having a _type._

“Hey ‘Nette,” Nino greeted her after he had hugged and kissed Alya, slinging an arm around his girlfriend and waving at his friend with his free hand. “This is Adrien.”

As soon as Nino said his name, abruptly, Marinette realized she recognized him, and her jaw came unhinged.

“A-Adrien… _Agreste?!_ ” She squawked, but the music was thankfully loud enough to drown her out, and no unwanted attention was gained.

A corner of Adrien Agreste’s mouth quirked up in a smile.

“Guilty as charged,” he joked with a slight laugh. Marinette laughed along with him, unable to do anything else for the moment, though her laughter was high and unnatural.

“Uh, Nino, can I talk to you for juuuust a moment?” She requested, not waiting for his reply before she snatched his arm and dragged him a few steps away. Once she felt they were far enough, Marinette rounded on him, staring at him in abject horror. “Do you want me to _die?!_ ”

Nino blinked.

“Not especially?” He replied, and Marinette groaned, slapping her forehead. “What? I told you I was bringing a handsome friend for you!”

“You never told me he was a _model!_ ” Marinette pointed out, flapping her hands in exasperation. “And you never told me he was _the_ model of Paris!! Nino, what were you _thinking?_ ”

“Hey, I just do what the boss tells me,” he said to her, his thumb jerking backwards making it clear that he was referring to Alya. “Don’t shoot me, I’m just the messenger.”

That…was true. And it was probably that Alya knew _exactly_ who Nino was bringing tonight, and just neglected to tell Marinette because she suspected that Marinette would freak out and talk herself out of this double date—

“Hey!” Alya called to them, a few tables away. “You guys aren’t conspiring to leave us here, are you?”

The danger in her tone could be heard even over the pulse of the music, and so Marinette resigned herself to following after Nino. Mercifully, Alya did not make her sit next to Adrien; she pushed Marinette into the booth before climbing in beside her, cutting off her escape and nudging what looked like a glass of liquid courage to Marinette. As she took a sip, Alya helped her out once again, opening the conversation for them all.

“So, Adrien, it’s interesting to see you slumming it with us little people. How do you and Nino know each other?”

“Work,” Adrien replied, toying with his glass of bourbon rather than drinking from it. Beside him, Nino shrugged carelessly.

“ _Gabriel_ was paying good money for a few good photographers for a day, and I got lucky. Turns out not all those models are snooty,” he added, nudging Adrien, who grinned a little more fully. Marinette felt her libido take another hit, and she cursed herself, drinking deeper from her glass. Why the hell was she like this?

“Well, it just so happens that _Marinette_ here is an aspiring fashion designer,” Alya announced, hugging Marinette sideways with a wink. Across from her, Adrien quirked an eyebrow.

“Really?” he asked, and Marinette shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. “What kind of clothes do you design?”

“Nothing you’d be interested in,” Marinette mumbled, only to be punished with a nudge from Alya.

“Don’t be modest. My girl’s _very_ talented. Maybe you could model some of her clothes sometime.”

“Alya!” Marinette squeaked, horrified, but Adrien only laughed.

“I think that’d be a breach in my contract with _Gabriel,_ ” he said, and though he smiled, Marinette rather felt that his amusement did not reach his eyes. “My father wouldn’t be happy.”

“Ah.” Alya shrugged, as if it were no big deal. “Well then, you can always pose nude for her.”

Nino snorted into his glass, and Marinette wanted to _die,_ right then and there.

“Oh listen, the DJ is playing your favorite song, why don’t you take Nino and dance?” Marinette suggested, not so subtly shoving Alya out of the booth. Her best friend resisted, grinning cheekily at her.

“Oh? Want alone time already? All you had to do was say so—”

“ _Leave,_ ” Marinette growled, and Alya laughed, grabbing Nino’s hand and pulling him towards the dance floor. Once the nuisances were gone, Marinette covered her face with her hands, willing herself to breathe. Okay, damage control, stat. It was no big deal, he was just another guy. A guy who happened to be a model for the most popular designer in Paris…who was also blonde and green-eyed and devastatingly handsome…

‘ _Stop it,_ ’ Marinette reminded herself, pinching her cheeks. She had to resolve this, before he gained a bad impression of her. She took a deep breath, psyching herself up. She could do this, she could do this, _she could do this…_

She lifted her head…and found that Adrien was watching her, casually leaning against the booth with one arm slung over the top. Posing.

Marinette raised an eyebrow at him.

“…What?” She wanted to know, unsure of whether or not she should be worried about that look in his eye. Adrien gave her a slow smile, his eyes twinkling.

“Let me guess,” he began, still toying with the glass of bourbon in his free hand, “your friend there put you up to this.”

Marinette grimaced. She supposed it was obvious, wasn’t it…?

“Yeah,” she admitted with a defeated sigh. “Apparently she’s concerned about my love life.”

“That’s the reason Nino gave me, too,” Adrien said with a slight roll of his eyes. “Apparently I work too much, and he’s concerned I’m gonna wind up alone with fifty cats.”

“Same!” Marinette scoffed. “Alya thinks she always knows what’s best, it’s so ridiculous. I love her, but…”

“It’s hard to be mad at people who have good intentions,” Adrien said, and Marinette nodded, completely agreeing.

“Exactly,” she said, relieved. Oh good, Adrien seemed to understand. That should make things less awkward. “So how did he get you to agree to come here?”

Adrien finally lifted the glass to his lips, taking a sip. He kept his eyes on Marinette the whole time, she couldn’t help but notice.

“…He knows I like girls with freckles,” he answered after a moment, his eyes roving over her face. “And blue eyes.”

Marinette felt blood rush to her face. Oh dear…

“W-well, sorry to disappoint you, but you’re not exactly my t-type,” she tried to deny, only to trip over her own tongue too much to be convincing. And she knew Adrien knew it; it was obvious in the way his lips curved into a grin. Something about that grin was faintly infuriating, and though Marinette had her suspicions why, she didn’t want to speculate on it any further in this moment. Crossing her arms, she added in a firmer tone, “Besides, I’m way too busy to date.”

“So am I,” Adrien concurred. “Tonight is just a way to get him off my back. You’re doing the same with Alya, aren’t you?”

Guilty as charged. Marinette let out a huff, frowning at the model sitting across from her. Honestly, he was kind of hard to read. Kind of mysterious, like nothing really ruffled him. It was annoying.

“Should we just fuck in the bathroom and get it over with, then?” Marinette blurted out before she could stop herself. A part of her inwardly gawked, horrified at such vulgarity, but the other part of her—the part that never backed down from a challenge—waited, wanting to see exactly how Adrien Agreste might react to such a blatant come-on.

It wasn’t at all the reaction she expected: instead of laughing and brushing her off, like she half-expected him to do, or taking her up on her offer, like a tiny, shameless part of her hoped he would, Adrien Agreste… _blushed_.

And it wasn’t a slight flush to add color to his cheeks at all—he went fully red in the face, as if Marinette had just…well, as if she had just solicited him for dirty, club bathroom sex. Marinette watched in disbelief as he glanced away from her, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand.

“…Uh…” He said, but that was all he seemed able to utter; as he visibly struggled to come up with a response, Marinette couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Pfffft!”

She bent over laughing, holding her sides as the hilarity of the moment took over. Once she finally calmed down, brushing tears of mirth from her eyes, it was to find Adrien giving her a wry look.

“You were making fun of me,” he surmised, and Marinette grinned a little guiltily.

“I mostly just wanted to see your reaction,” she confessed with a wink. Adrien’s expression turned speculative.

“What would you have done if I had said yes?”

Marinette considered it for a moment.

“I think…I would’ve told you I was kidding,” she admitted, cringing. “Club bathrooms don’t seem very romantic to me.”

“Who said anything about romance?” Adrien pointed out, smirking at her. Marinette stared at him. Weird that he already seemed so familiar to her, even though they were just meeting tonight…she supposed it was just odd because his face was plastered all over Paris. “After all, we’re both here to get our best friends off our backs, right?”

“That’s true,” Marinette agreed. “Though I don’t think having sex in the club bathroom will solve it; they’ll just be all over us to actually date each other after that.”

“True…” Adrien folded his hands under his chin, a slight crease in his brows as he stared at Marinette.

“What?” She wanted to know, raising an eyebrow at that speculative look in his eye. Adrien pursed his lips, and Marinette’s eyes were drawn there against her will. Was he doing this on purpose?

“…I was just thinking,” he began slowly, keeping her gaze, “that we seem to be of one mind: we want our best friends to leave our love lives alone, but we know they won’t do that, and neither of us have time to date.”

“…And?” Marinette prodded when he stopped talking; that couldn’t be the end of his thought, could it? Adrien lifted his head from his hands, giving a slight shrug.

“Well, I was just thinking: if we _said_ we were dating…that would buy us some time, wouldn’t it?”

Marinette stared at him.

“What, you mean, like… _pretend_ to date?”

Adrien shrugged again, as if this proposal was of little consequence to him.

“Why not? It would get them to back off, we’d be free to live our lives while keeping up appearances, if only temporarily, and if we need to, we could stage some sort of messy break-up later on that would make them think twice about interfering again.”

Marinette pursed her lips, turning the idea over in her head. Honestly, she thought it was ridiculous—Alya was always able to tell when Marinette was lying, so pretending to date a guy she didn’t know probably wouldn’t go over well. Besides, a messy break-up might have the opposite effect on Alya, making her even more determined to find ‘the right guy’ for Marinette. She just couldn’t see this working out in her favor.

“You have a better solution?” Adrien asked when Marinette voiced her concerns. She pouted at him, and his lips twitched, like he wanted to smile.

“It just doesn’t sound realistic,” she said, working to keep her calm, even though she was starting to suspect that Adrien Agreste might be irritating her on purpose. “I mean, we hardly know each other.”

Adrien blinked, as if he had just realized that.

“Hmm…in that case…”

He stood up, sliding out of the booth. Marinette stared at him, and he turned back to her, raising his eyebrows.

“You coming?”

She stared some more.

“Coming where?”

“Well, the way I see it, we need somewhere quiet to get to know each other, and this place is giving me sensory overload,” Adrien said, indeed squinting in the light that flashed over his eyes for a brief moment. Still, Marinette stared at him, as if he had just started speaking to her in another language.

“Get to know each other?” She repeated, the words foreign to her. “Why would—?”

“We won’t convince anyone that we’re dating if we don’t know random information about each other, right?” Adrien pointed out, raising his eyebrows, as if he found her simple. She scowled back at him.

“And what makes you think I want to go along with your ruse? Better yet,” she cut herself off, sliding out of the booth to stand her ground against this pushy model, despite the fact that he dwarfed her by a few good centimeters. “What makes you think I want to get to know you?”

Adrien stared down at her, holding her eyes effortlessly, much to Marinette’s annoyance. As she stared defiantly up at him, a corner of his mouth curved into a smirk that Marinette found irritating on principle. That, and it weirdly reminded her of someone else—

“Because you’re curious,” he told her with such confidence, it was like he had plucked the answer straight from her mind. “I kind of bother you, because you’re having a hard time figuring me out. Right?”

Marinette opened her mouth, closed it, repeated this process a couple times before she gave up on a snappy comeback. After all, he was _right_. And she didn’t like it, but she couldn’t really refute it, could she? Not when it would be obvious that she was lying…

Frowning, she grabbed her jacket. Adrien grinned, offering his arm to her, and Marinette took it, just so they wouldn’t get separated as they moved through the crowd. That was the only reason, and Marinette was sticking to it.

“So? Why do you want to get to know _me_?” She asked him as they left the stuffy and noisy atmosphere of the club behind. Adrien fixed his hair, running a hand through his perfect blonde locks as he glanced down at her with those perfect green eyes, his perfect eyelashes brushing against perfect cheekbones as he blinked, his perfect lips pursing as he considered her question.

Marinette was so attracted to him, and it was so very aggravating.

“…I told you,” he said, and his lips parted in a smile, “I have a type.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...This new dynamic between Adrienette intrigues me. I wanna follow where it goes, so we'll see how it shakes out. XP
> 
> Despite the fact that there wasn't much smut, hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


End file.
